Jen Lin-Liu

Overall, I enjoyed On the Noodle Road, although perhaps not as much as I had hoped. This is a book that compares the role of noodles in multiple cultures along the "Silk Road", in an attempt to answer the question: "where did noodles originate?". The book is more of a travelogue than a scholarly study, which is fine, as the author writes well, and I enjoyed her descriptions of cooking and family life along her journeys. Her story moved along best when her focus was turned outwards: I found show more discussions of her own personal life much less compelling. My only other quibble is that the book's coverage is uneven, with twice as much material on China as on Italy. Still, it was a light and interesting read. show less

Okay, so memoirs are by nature somewhat self-indulgent. But--as I've pointed out in reviews of other books, such as Cheryl Lu-Lien Tan's A Tiger in the Kitchen--effective memoirs are written at a distance: with reflection; with a veil or patina of wisdom that imparts a deeper meaning on one's erstwhile actions and thoughts. When one is too close to those actions and thoughts, superficiality, naïveté, and self-centeredness rear their ugly heads. For me, then, Jen Lin-Liu's On the Noodle show more Road: From Beijing to Rome with Love and Pasta read decidedly as so-called chick lit. The premise sounded fascinating, but the delivery was too unfocused, too rambling, too diary-like; and the reader leaves the journey ultimately unsatisfied, since the author's intended goals seem unmet at the end. When I teach writing, in fact, I find that students often have a very difficult time understanding what level of detail is appropriate for their tasks at hand. The most important matter is to keep the narrative moving forward. So the writer must know the goal; and the writer must be able to imagine how his or her readers will respond to the text. When that sense of connecting with the reader is lost, the story, the thread, the argument, the whatever becomes something only the author cares about--and the reader just wants to be finished.

In short, then, the bifurcated storylines (that of the ostensible premise of the book--traveling the Silk Road in study of noodles and noodle dishes--and of the author's relationship with her husband [about which I was completely uninterested]) fail to speak to one another; they're a marriage of convenience for the purpose of packaging a book that I suppose might appeal to readers who enjoy books in the Eat, Pray, Love genre. I prefer food-related books where I learn something transformative and meaningful about food and culture--or where the author has a gifted ability to write about food in a way that does not sound merely like litanies of ingredients or dishes followed by too-brief (or absent) analyses of the results. The baggage and trappings of the authors are difficult for me to warm up to, particularly with contemporary authors (and almost always the case with authors who are younger than I am). When I finish these sorts of books--and I do so only because I commit myself to finishing what I begin--I always tell myself, "Never again!" But I'd read this author's first offering, Serve the People: A Stir-Fried Journey through China, of which the first part of On the Noodle Road resurrects (and thus feels repetitive), so I am the one to blame here for giving the author another chance. Alas. (And I must clarify that these views are my impressions of the book qua effective story, not of the author qua person.) show less

First Published on We Should Make T-Shirts.

I love noodles, so this book seemed right up my alley. And I would say it lived up to my expectations. I learned a hell of a lot about the cuisine of the countries represented, and I have a few extra places to add to my "Future Travels" list. Turkey in particular surprised me, because it's a country I've really never thought about before.

One of the things that I really appreciated about this book was the way that Jen Lin-Liu approaches the idea of show more marriage. Her plans to travel the silk road in search of the history of noodles means separating from her husband for months at a time while they are still in their newlywed stage. She questions what exactly it means to be a spouse and an individual at the same time. That's something I think every couple questions at some point, especially if they haven't had children yet, and I like that it became an important part of her journey.

The book comes with recipes at the end of each country's section, and I'm excited to try some of them. I can see myself rereading this once or twice. show less

Jen Lin-Liu is SERIOUS about noodles. That said, she manages to see--and convey--the humor in various aspects of her culinary research trip. My favorite parts of the memoir involved her travels to Central Asia and Iran; her discoveries seemed fresh and unique. I've read a fair number of travel memoirs, and this one ranks among the best because it is so well written.